What's up? This is Mary. Leave a message and I'll holler back. Peace. Yo. Yo, Mary. Pick up the phone, girl. Yo, Mary. Pick up the phone, girl. Hello? Yo, what's up? What's up, Puff? Yo, you ready? I'm always ready. It's about that time again. This the moment they all been waiting for. Time to take it back to the gutter. The queen of hip-hop soul. Ooh. In your life, collect the love. Always thank the man above. Thank you. The more you give, the more you get. That's real talk. Let me warm it up for you. Who better to usher you back through the gutter than America's number one hustler? Don't call it a comeback. That's just a money test of that. And you can call it whatever you like. In fact, it's something like a phenomenon. Like I'm a young LeBron. Getting my high school games on. TV just for dunking on. Whoever wanted was shown. We can get it jumping like Donkey Kong. We can get it dumping like bong, bong, bong. Travel the weight of the gun. Come on. Come on. No, I'm not only begging. I'm egging you on. Until you're dead or gone, that's the vent that I'm on. This ain't no video game with wrestlers on it. The competitor on this is on some ***. On this, come through all black like an Amish. Hostess under the armpit, the arm spit. It's just that Brooklyn dawn ***. Along with the queen from Yonkers. Come on, kiss the ring before I let Miss Mary sing. Exposed to you a soul into everything. It's classic material. I see you bashes at the burial. Jay go first and then Mary go round. I just ride. Hold her down with the fifth by my side. Me and Miss Blodge. Look up in the sky. It's a bird of that cane. And that hydro flow that I bought to the game. I could go more, but I'ma let my do her thing. Brooklyn, we did it again. I can't really explain what it is about her. I don't know. It's just something special. Ain't nobody like her. It's only one Mary. Only one queen of hip-hop soul. Love and life. Let's do it.